The Sound of Rushing Water
by McNagelpuff
Summary: Pretty much your typical Johnlock High school AU. John is the new student, he just want to pass the year without any trouble, but then he meets Sherlock holmes. Sorry but apparently I'm a sucker for clichés, so there's probably gonna be a couple in this fic. There's also definitely gonna be smut later on. Trigger warning for some bullying and homophobia.
1. Chapter 1

John Watson slowly opens, and walks through the glass door into the front hall of his new school. He looks around the room and shuffles nervously as several students hurries past him, the hall isn't as large as in his old school and it's more homely, though there are a lot of doors going into different directions and a rush of students constantly cutting across the room from door to door.

He walks up to the tall desk, behind it a slightly chubby woman wearing a violently pink cardigan is patiently speaking on the phone with what sounds like a very disgruntled parent.

She eventually puts the phone down with a sigh, writes a note on a piece of paper and finally looks up unto John, with a quick smile.

"Yes dear, what can i help you with?" she asks.

"I'm John Watson, I just transferred here, and i was wondering if you could tell me which room Miss Larson's class is in?"

"Of course dear, go right down that hall and then turn left, it'll be the fourth door on your right" she smiles and points to the closest corridor.

John closely follows her instructions, and the second door he tries seems to be the right one, he quickly makes his way down to an empty chair almost in the back, still slightly flushed from having walked into the wrong class. A few of the other students are eyeing him curiously and a couple of the girls immediately starts whispering and giggling a couple of tables over. One of the braver girls, a dark eyed brunette, turns around and looks at him with a smirk.

"Hi, I'm Monique" she purrs while fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

"I'm John" John responds a bit disquieted.

"So, you new here?"

"Yeah, just moved here last week" John gives a slight smile.

She answers John's smile with a grin so wide John is slightly worried she's going to split in two, and then exclaims: "Brilliant, then you'll have to let me show you around after class"

Before John manages to answer her, the teacher walks in and makes the class settle down. Monique gives John one more glance before turning back around in her chair still smiling widely.

John is relieved, he really just wants this day to be over without any more hitches or embarrassments, and Monique is definitely a hindrance.

John can't quite remember when he realised that he was gay, but it was a couple of years back, and since then, as to taunt him, he apparently has become more and more appealing to the opposite sex. He isn't very tall, but he likes sports and is in good shape, he has a natural charm and he's often faced with giggling and flustered girls, them he can handle, it's the smirking, seductive, eye-bashing kind of girls that is the problem. Boys his age are expected to take part in the flirting and basically jump at any chance they have of getting with any fairly okay looking girl who as much as glances their way, and it never fails to attract unwanted attention when he turns down girls who are practically throwing themselves at his feet.

John is abruptly ripped out of his gloomy thoughts as he hears the teacher mention his name. He looks up and sees most of the class peeking at him over their shoulders. Luckily Miss Larson isn't the kind of teacher who'd make him stand up and introduce himself, and soon the class has again shifted their attention to the lesson.

During class John examines his new classmates closer, there are the giggling girls from before sitting around Monique, a couple of quiet kids by the windows to the left, seemingly more interested in staring blankly into thin air, or chewing on their pencils, than actually listening to the teacher, there are the kids on the front row furiously taking notes at everything the teacher says and then there are the group of loud guys at the back, some of them making the occasional farting noises or throwing small pieces of paper at other people, some of them laughing quietly and sending smug looks at the rest of the class.

A shrewd, but deep voice catches John's ear and he notices a boy sitting at the front of the class all the way to the left, he'd barely noticed him when he inspected the rest of the class.

The boy seems out of place somehow.

He has dark curls who covers most of his long, pale neck, and as far as john can see while sitting down, he is quite tall.

John doesn't hear the exchange of words between the boy and the teacher, but the teacher looks exceedingly huffed as she hastily continues the lesson.

The rest of the class goes without incident, John sits quietly in the back until he hears the bell ring. "Remember to answer question one through three for next time, and read the next chapter in your books" Miss Larson states loudly to the class as they start clattering with chairs and chatting with each other.

John begins packing his things into his bag, and as quickly as possible heads for the door, hoping that Monique has forgotten about her promise to show him around. Sadly, he barely makes it out in the hallway before he feels her finely manicured hand on his shoulder.

"So, what do you wanna see first?" She asks.

John hesitates for a second before hearing his stomach growl impatiently.

"How about the canteen, I'm kinda starved"

"Sure" she says, smile widening, "right this way".

She grabs John's hand, and he is forced to follow her through the crowded hallway. They go through the entrance hall, and past the pink clad receptionist, through another set of broad wooden doors and into a massive canteen, who is apparently also used for assemblies judging by the large stage in the other end of the room.

John buys some food and finds an empty table in a corner, Monique hasn't let her eyes off him since class, and now she's sitting uncomfortably close to him, practically climbing his lap.

"So, are you going to try out for the rugby team?" she asks, after a short silence where John has tried stuffing as much food down as possible.

He turns his head towards her "Yeah i think so, why do you ask?" he says, mouth overflowing with pasta, he thinks maybe if he could disgust her a bit, she would leave him alone. It works to some extent as she backs off a bit with a positively grossed out look on her face.

"Well, you just look like a guy who likes sports, all muscly and stuff" She says and gives him an undoubtedly fake simper.

Great, she's still flirting, John thinks. He stares deeply into his food as though it holds the key to his escape.

Monique keeps on asking him questions, and John keeps answering as briefly and abrupt as he can, to try and throw her off.

Finally she seems to be emptied out for ideas and they sit in quiet for a bit, she looks as though using all her brain capacity on trying to find something to say.

John supposes that she's used to some more keen conversational partners, and he feels kind of sorry for her, but he really just wants to make her understand that he isn't interested.

Finally it seems like an idea has formed in her head and her blazing smile returns.

"You know, I'm not doing anything after school today and if you're not busy then-"

John quickly cuts her off. "I'm sorry, i need to go talk to the PE teacher, about trying out for the rugby team, now" He gets to his feet quickly, and chugs the rest of his food in the nearest bin.

"Oh, well i guess I'll see you later then" she says disappointedly.

As John leaves the canteen, he sees her giggling friends make their way over to her.

* * *

John wasn't actually intending to go to the PE teacher right now, but now that he's used it as excuse to get away from Monique, he figures that he might as well do it, then at least he won't have told a lie.

The PE teacher, Mr. Hammond, seems only happy to get him on the team, they had apparently just lost a team member whose family had had to move away. They agree that he can join the training already this afternoon, to see if he matches with the rest of the team.

John is now standing in the hallway, rummaging in his back for his timetable and the little map of the school he's gotten from the receptionist, he has biology with Mr. Whitaker next, and he is determined not to be late, even though he has no idea where room '24b' is.

After running from one end of the school to the other a couple of times he finally finds the room, hidden in a little nook on the second floor, he barges through the door, still panting from having run all the way down the long corridor.

Most of the class looks a bit shocked at his sudden entrance. John quickly makes his apologies and settles down in the nearest seat.

Biology is seemingly not as popular as English had been and the class is quite small, John looks around at the other pupils, his eyes fall on the boy sitting next to him, it's the same boy he took notice to in english class.

Except for a small bruise by his jawline, the boys face is as pale as his neck had been, he has very prominent cheekbones and his lips are slightly crooked, his dark brown curls are somewhat tousled, a small lock of hair is hanging astray over his furrowed brows, John has to fight a sudden urge to reach out and brush it to the side. John thinks he looks bored. And if he has to be completely honest with himself he finds his face surprisingly appealing, maybe even handsome.

Suddenly the boy turns his head and looks straight at him, his grey eyes piercing him. John immediately looks down as he realises that he'd been staring at the boy. He feels the boy's gaze on him, as if he's reading every thought he's ever had. John dares to take small peak at the tall boy, who is still scrutinising him. He looks, John doesn't know quite how to describe it, not angry, but more annoyed, still looking slightly bored, and then slightly puzzled as well. After a little while, which for John seems like a small eternity, the boy looks back up at the teacher.

John doesn't dare look back at him, and instead finds himself looking at his hands, resting on the table. He has long and somewhat bony, but strong hands, his fingers slightly calloused and with lots of small cuts and scratches. John thinks they look like hands who would be good at playing the piano.

* * *

After class John makes his way round the sea of students who are all trying get out into the sunny, early autumn weather, his mind can't quite leave the image of the tall boy behind, and he was tall, John had had that confirmed when the boy had stood up swiftly and left the class before John had even packed his bag. He hadn't looked back. And why would he? It wasn't like John had said anything to him. Why can't he just let it go. It's not like he often has crushes on strange boys he's seen twice and never spoken with. "For fucks sake, get a grip John" he says to himself as he walks across the green football fields towards the changing rooms.

Most of the guys on the rugby team, he recognises from class, there are the two guys who looks like the person who created them was actually going for mountains, but made a small miscalculation along the way. Their names are Adam and Jake, and they're twins. They are also the ones who had made the farting noises John had noticed earlier the same day. There is Oliver who has charm and looks, but an utter disregard for other people's feelings. There is Robert who is a bit quiet and seems nice enough, but John can't quite make him out, and then there is Lewis who is a bit smaller than the others, even smaller than John, but he's fast, and though the others seems to often make him the butt of a joke, he's good at flinging that joke right back at them.

John is, despite his natural charm, not great at making friends, but the Rugby team takes him in as one of their own, the second they've seen him on the field. Finally something he's good at, John thinks as he run across the field, dodges and dives and feels his pulse speed up. After training Mr. Hammond pats John on the shoulder and welcomes him to the team. Mr. Hammond is a big man, and almost pats John into the soft soil, but John is just happy that he's made some friends, even though they might be slightly questionable.

In the changing rooms afterwards, John has an agitating conversation with the rest of the team, mostly about rugby, then a bit about girls and then some about farts, which seems to be the preferred topic of both Jake and Adam. John laughs at the farts and the rugby and maybe a bit too loud about the girls, he even laughs a little when Oliver makes the joke about fags, remembering what his mother had said about finding friends.

"I mean it's not like I'm hurting anyone" John tries to explain to himself when he's lying in bed that evening, "They're not that bad, and it's better than having no friends, actually I can probably do more good being friends with them than if I wasn't" John rationalises.

He stares into the cracks on the ceiling for a little while, sometimes a flash of light illuminates them when a car drives past outside. His mother had smiled when he came home that afternoon, asked him about his day. "Good" John had answered "made a whole bunch of friends". John enjoyed his mother's pleased expression, it was a while since he'd seen it.

The cracks are illuminated again, their shadows sharp against the white. John suddenly finds his thoughts wandering back to the boy whose name he doesn't know. John can see his piercing grey eyes when he closes his own.

* * *

A little way away, the boy with the piercing grey eyes is also lying in his bed. He hadn't meant to, but his brother had yelled at him for keeping the entire house awake, which really meant keeping him awake, and Sherlock had had to drag himself to bed. He's wide awake and his thoughts keeps swiveling from one thing to the other, he is doing an especially interesting experiment involving the effect of different poisons on blood and he is trying to determine just how long it's going to be before he can sneak back into his little lab and continue it. When Mycroft sleeps, he sleeps heavily, and with a bit of effort, Sherlock is sure he won't notice him again.

Sherlock moves restlessly, he really hopes he can make it back before the experiment is going to be ruined, it hadn't been easy to get a hold of the poisons he needed.

His mind seems to linger with the boy from today. John Watson. Blond, fit, charming, nothing special, but then again, it's like there is something bothering Sherlock, something about the boy that he can't quite make out. The way he'd been staring at him. Sherlock hastily dismisses it, he'd probably just been trying to figure out which insult would be the best to start out with. Sherlock doesn't care about the bullying, but it can be bothersome when it becomes physical.

Sherlock's thoughts returns to the quiet house, and he slowly makes his way out the door and into the cold hallway. "Sherlock!" he hears from a couple doors down. Dammit he hadn't waited long enough, Mycroft must be having trouble sleeping, drank too much tea before bed, Sherlock figures.


	2. Chapter 2

_Second chapter! Finally! So, so sorry about the insane amount of time it took me to write this, i really don't have any proper apologies, it's not even very long, but at least it's here. Hope you like it, and please review._

* * *

John is sitting in miss Larson's class, this time he is sitting in the back, between Robert and Jake. It is exactly one week since the first time he'd sat in this class. Ever since the first training session with the rugby team, they've urged him to sit with them in class. John is happy to have some friends, and hanging out with the guys has the unforeseen advantage that Robert is Monique's brother and it appears that she isn't very comfortable flirting when he's near.

It does make schoolwork a bit harder when you're sat between people who constantly talks during class, and sometimes the others teases him for being a swot, but it's always in a friendly way, not as when they tease some of the other kids. John never joins the bullying, but he doesn't stop it either. He's convinced himself that he needs to gain their trust before saying something, that it won't help anyone if they exclude him, but deep down he knows he's just being a coward. The feeling is strange to him. He isn't used to backing down from anything, but then he thinks of his mother, when he told her of his friends, an expression of contentment he hadn't seen on her for longer than he can remember. He can't make himself do anything that might remove that expression.

John's trying to write down what the teacher is saying about some philosopher from the 1600s, while simultaneously making polite grunts at Jake, who is graphically describing a goal from yesterday's football match to him.

All of a sudden John realises that he has apparently, in the last couple of minutes, written that 'the Father of Classical Liberalism just backheeled the ball to Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who then bended it right past Immanuel Kant and into the goal'. John makes a deep sigh, puts down his pen and then yawns deeply.

"Tired?" Robert asks

"Yeah, i've been having trouble sleeping lately" John admits.

"How about joining us after school today? We're gonna go down to the football fields over by the old petrol station. You might get some energy run off" Jake says grinning at John.

"Thanks, but no thanks guys, i have a thing i need to do after school"

"Uuuh, what's her name?" Jake teases.

"It's not a girl, i just have something i need to do" John says.

"Of course you do, Watson" Jake says still with a glint in his eye and a teasing grin.

"Oh shut up"

Truth is that John is actually seeing a girl after school, but not in the way Jake insinuates. It is his sister Harry. Their mother had insisted that John should make his way to her school, the one time a week she has dance class, to walk her home. Harry had thought it ridiculous, and had voiced as much to their mother. Frankly, John agreed, Harry is only a few years younger than him, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but their mother had been adamant in her decision, and Harry had yielded with an annoyed sigh and a dramatic retreat to her room.

Harry had, when they moved, decided on an all girls school, which has a good reputation, John's school is about midways between her school and their home, so he doesn't feel like walking all the way home, just to walk all the way back 10 minutes later. Instead he finds himself in the school library, after classes, trying to get some of his homework done.

John is particularly engrossed in one of his biology questions, they're about anatomy, one of his favorite subjects, when a deep voice startles him. He gives a little jump in his chair, when he sees the owner of the voice standing only a few feet away. John looks up at the face of the boy whose name he now knows as Sherlock Holmes. He looks unusually annoyed.

"Erh.." John says not having heard a word.

"Do you think you could have a brain hemorrhage somewhere else, and maybe pass me that book you're drooling over, or is that too much work for your apparently underdeveloped brain cells?"

John looks down on the anatomy book he'd been studying and then back up at the boy, he straightens his back and feels himself go into a well known defence mode, he might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but this boy, who doesn't even know him, can't just come up and start flinging insults left and right and then just expect him to hand over his book.

"I'm using it" John says coldly.

"Well yes, obviously, but not for something important, and I need the book" Sherlock looks at him with the same kind of look one might have given a particularly slow goldfish, and then surprisingly adds a "Please" with a look like the word physically pains him.

"Why don't you just get another from the librarian, i'm sure the library has more than one"

"I already asked, they are all lend out, that one there is the last one here, and I need it now"

"I'm finished soon, you can have it when i'm done with it"

"Oh for heavens sake, can't you just do something else?"

"When i'm done with it"

Then to John's surprise, the boy dramatically flails down into the chair next to him and with an exasperated sigh says "Alright then come here with it, i've left mine at home, but I haven't deleted it completely yet, so it shouldn't take too long"

"What are you doing?" John narrows his eyes gives him an incredulous look.

"I'm helping you with your homework, I'd think that would be obvious"

"But why? One second you're practically yelling at me, and the next you're giving me homework tips?" John was growing more and more confused by this strange boys seemingly completely illogical demeanor.

"Look here, you're obviously not handing over the book before you have completed this meaningless task, and if I help you, it will go faster, which means that i'll get the book faster, so hand over that sheet will you"

A small "Oh" was all John could manage to get out as he regained his composition and slid his papers slightly towards the boy, so they both could see them"

"Okay then, the answer for question three is 24 and for question four it's femur, patella, tibia and fibula."

John sends him a sharp look, and a couple of beats go by before Sherlock looks back at him. "Well, why aren't you writing, did you lose all your mental capacity?"

"I don't just want you to tell me the answers"

"Whyever not?"

"I won't learn anything!"

"Why do you care?"

"Of course i care!" John is sure Sherlock is taking the piss, but he actually looks quite baffled that John actually cares about his education.

They stare intently at each other for a couple of seconds before Sherlock brakes it "Okay, the answer for question two can be found on page 56, though i really don't see how that is better than me telling you"

John just grunts and reaches for the book.

As it turns out, Sherlock is actually a fairly capable teacher, even though he often gets impatient when John takes too long finding the right answer, and takes to insulting him when he says something wrong. John strangely feels almost disappointed when they finish the last of the rather simple questions. He finds that for some reason he rather likes the strange boy with the biting remarks.

"Thanks for your help, i wouldn't have finished it half as fast alone" John says smiling.

"Of course you wouldn't. I'd like the book now" Sherlock says standing up and stretching his arm out towards John.

"Oh, right" John looks down on the anatomy book in his hands, his smile dropping, he'd almost forgotten the reason why Sherlock was actually helping him. "Here" he says handing it over.

Sherlock grabs the book and stalks away without even as much as a thank you.

* * *

Standing outside his sisters school, John's debating with himself whether or not he is actually a masochist, since he doesn't seem to be able to find any other explanation for why he had enjoyed Sherlock's company so much. Well, of course he was on some level charming and had some strange force of attraction, but somehow it just didn't seem to cover it. Maybe it was just his curiosity. John slowly shakes his head.

"Talking to yourself now are we?" he hears his sister say from a few feet away, he had been so preoccupied that he hadn't even heard her approaching. She's grinning widely.

"No" John promptly retorts and gives her a grumpy look.

"Whatever you say dear brother, but you know what they say, first sign of insanity and all that" she continues while swinging her bag, as they start walking homewards.

"I'm not turning insane!" John says, though secretly he thinks of Sherlock, and wonders if he might be.


	3. Chapter 3

_I know there's gonna be some mistakes in this one, i've read it over like 20 times and each time i find new things, so please tell me if you see some. I really need to get a beta on these._

* * *

The following day, John's first class is biology. He is a few minutes late, but luckily Mr. Whitaker hasn't started the class yet, and there's still a bit of chatter going around. John tries to shoot him an apologising look, but Mr. Whitaker is in that moment preoccupied with some papers and doesn't even seem to notice that John has come in, so John just plump down in the nearest chair and pulls out his books.

If the nearest chair is the one next to Sherlock, it certainly isn't John's fault.

"Hi" John says cheerily. Sherlock scowls at him.

"Hey, thanks again for your help yesterday, it was-"

"Do you make some kind of effort to always be late?" Sherlock interrupts and directs a bored stare against him.

"Oh, erh.. No.." John falters under the stare and shifts his gaze to his hands on the table "I suppose I have been late quite a lot, but I'm just getting used to the school and the way here and stuff" John tries with a small smile again, but Sherlock just looks away and says "No, that's not it"

"I'm sorry?" John says a bit confused.

"That's not why you're late. You don't sleep well, probably because you have nightmares, so you overheard your alarm clock this morning. Your mother wasn't there to wake you, due to her working the night shift at the hospital, she works the night shift because it pays more, and she needs the extra money to support you because your father isn't there anymore. You usually wake early, so you would still have had enough time to get to school early, if you skipped showering, but then you had to help your younger, more irresponsible sibling get ready as well, he or she was being difficult, and hence you were late" Sherlock finishes with a small nod of his head, focusing a cold stare at some distant point.

"Wow.. that was brilliant.. how in the hell did you do that?"

If John didn't know better he'd say Sherlock looked confused. "You really think so?" he says.

"Yes, of course, it was bloody amazing!"

"That's not what people usually say"

"What does people usually say?"

"Piss off"

John laughs.

Sherlock looks at him with something that might actually be akin to a smile, and John notices that he looks slightly less tense. He hadn't even noticed that he'd looked tense before, but now that he's let it go the change seems stunningly obvious.

"Mr. Watson is there something you'd like to share with the class" the teacher interrupts.

John quickly ceases the giggling "No sir, sorry sir" he says, feeling his face go slightly pink.

"Good, then, where were we? Oh yes, bones of the body, Simon could you please name-"

John sneaks a look at Sherlock, he's still looking slightly baffled at him, as if he was some kind of interesting insect who'd suddenly decided to do the conga. John gives him a small smile, and then resumes listening to the teacher.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by in a bit of a haze for John, his mind wandering back to the befuddling conversation with the strange boy. He tries covertly catching his eye several times, but without luck, though a few times he could have sworn he saw through the corner of his eye, Sherlock looking at him, but whenever he looked back at him, Sherlock always seemed completely oblivious to John's existence.

Making his way home after school, John sighs and looks up at the grey skies, a slight drizzle had started about an hour ago while he'd been at rugby practice. It had been nice getting out in the fresh air and stretch his muscles, it had though turned a bit muddy when the rain started and he's pretty sure some of it is still stuck in his hair, despite a rather cold shower afterwards. John thoroughly enjoyed the easygoing camaraderie of the rugby team and he'd quickly felt at home there.

By now small drops of water has formed in his hair and is running down his forehead, "God, I'll be completely soaked by the time I reach home" John says quietly, he shivers slightly in his thin jacket, wishing it was warmer, but there hadn't been extra money in the budget for a long time and for now, he would just have to live with it.

For about the hundredth time that day his thoughts return to that of Sherlock Holmes, "Why does it all has to be so bloody confusing, he probably does it on purpose as well the bastard, not that i'm any better, can't stop fucking thinking about him like some kind of obsessive freak, and now i'm talking to myself again, really John, for fucks sake" John wonders for the second time if he's not going a bit crazy. A tabby cat stares judgingly at him from the side of the path. "Oh shut up" John huffs and starts walking determinately, trying not to think of long slender hands and grey eyes who reads his entire life in a split second. The cat completely undeterred follows him with it's eyes as he practically marches down the small path and right into the nearest lamppost.

* * *

Next day, third period, John is sitting in his art class, they've started working on their portfolios and John is completely absorbed in his drawing, the red dragon spreading it's wide wings under a starry sky, he likes drawing, makes his mind leave everything else and just concentrate on what he's doing, that's why he chose arts even though he doesn't really know what he's gonna use it for. John is so deep in thought, he doesn't even notice Monique sitting down beside him. He's almost the only boy in the class, another subject the guys like to mock him a bit about, not that he really cares, it's all friendly.

"That looks really nice John" Monique says happily, making John jump a little bit.

"Oh, right, thanks" he says giving her a tightlipped smile and then returning to shadowing the dragons wings.

"You're so artistic John, really, it's gorgeous, how long have you been drawing for?"

"Since i was a child, don't really remember when i started"

"Oh really? Me too! I just always really loved it, i'm not great though, i'm sure you could teach me a lot.."

"I'm sure you draw beautifully"

"Well, you can always get better, i always say"

John makes a vaguely uncommitted noise, Monique is still smiling wide, John's jaw feels sore just from looking at her, she could become a toothpaste model any day John thinks.

A couple of seconds pass by. "Soo, did you hear what happened last break?"

"Hmm..?"

"Oh, you must have, absolutely everyone is talking about it!"

"I really didn't"

"Well, Oliver stopped that guy.. erh what's his face, the weird tall one with the freakish name.. erh.."

"Sherlock?" John was suddenly listening a lot more attently.

"Yes, that's it!" Monique continued completely oblivious to John's sudden interest "Well, Oliver and some of the other guys had stopped him in the hall and asked him something, or whatever, and then he went all weird and started saying something really horrid about Olivers mum, he's fucking touched in the head that one, but i swear i've never seen Oliver go so red in the face before, he didn't even say anything, he just stood there looking like he was bloody choking or something, and then the schizo just turned around and walked down the hall, i've never seen someone shut up Oliver like that before, he looked absolutely murderous, i bet ya that Sherlock guy better look where he's going for a while and.."

"Monique stop chattering and get on with your work you're disturbing the others" Miss Jones, the arts and design teacher, interrupted.

"Yeees Miss" Monique said with an eyeroll towards John.

John suddenly finds he has a hard time concentrating on the dragon. He somehow doubts Oliver was just stopping Sherlock to ask him something.

It's not like it's any of my bloody business anyways, John thinks after staring at his paper for a good five minutes. He snaps up his pencil and starts adding colour to the stars, but still with what Monique said gnawing worriedly somewhere in the back of his mind.

* * *

Last period, ., John notices Oliver is a lot quieter than usual, around halfway in, he smashes the football so hard into the goalies face that he has to go out with a nosebleed. Some of the guys looks slightly unnerved.

"Is he okay?" John asks Lewis when he gets the chance.

"Oliver? Yeah, he just need to get it out of his system alright, we're dealing with it after school, then he'll be fine" Lewis says and winks at John, just as Mr. Hammond blows the whistle.

"Alright, boys gather round, great job today, you're all doing nicely, just remember to work together as a team, and not get too caught up with yourself, okay, next week we're gonna be doing cooper test" they all groan collectively "I of course expect only your very best, now go get changed and i'll see you all monday"

"John, would you mind, I just need to talk to you about something" he then says, waving John back, as the others start walking towards the changing rooms.

* * *

A little while later John is walking towards the changing rooms by himself, the teacher had told him about this camp, arranged by the rugby football union, for a few boys chosen at random from all over the country. You'd be trained by a professional trainer and some of the players from the national team would come visit during the week. Apparently most of the other boys usually applied and Mr. Hammond wanted John to have the opportunity as well. John is uncertain whether he wants to or not. He figures that on one side, rugby is mostly a fun spare time activity and not something he actually wants to make a career out of or anything, but on the other side it does sound like a lot of fun, and he probably won't be chosen anyways so he might as well give it a go.

John turns it over in his head while showering and dressing in the now empty changing room, the last of the other boys had just been leaving as he got there. He finishes up and steps out into the chilly afternoon air. Seems like winter is coming a bit early he thinks glumly, while pulling his coat a bit closer around him. He starts walking towards the path that leads to his house, round behind the school.

A sneering voice cuts through the cold air "Not so smart now are you, you fucking fag"

John stops dead a couple of meters from the corner of the red brick building. He hears a sickening thump followed by a cut off cry. Then someone laughing.

"We were nice to you this time freak, but if you ever say as much as another word about my mum, i'll make you sorry you were ever born"

A couple of seconds passes before a slightly shrill voice speaks "Oliver, we should go now, someone might notice us"

And just like that, it all falls into place and John feels sick. He notices that he's been standing frozen since he first heard Oliver's voice and he takes a deep breath before resolutely turning the corner, not quite sure what he's actually going to do, he just knows that he can't stand doing nothing. But as he turns the corner the other boys are already halfway across the empty field behind the school. John stands indecisive for a moment before his attention is caught by what would look like a strange heap of clothes if not for the pained groans emitting from it, he rushes over and worriedly sits down next to the boy, driven by some caretaker impulse more than rational thought, which is why he is taken by complete surprise when Sherlock lashes out and violently recoils from his touch. John falls back, stupid, stupid, he should have known Sherlock would still be in defensive mode.

"Hey, easy, i just wanna help" He says holding out his hands in what he hopes is an amiable gesture.

Sherlocks panicky look immediately turns into one of suspicion "Why?" he asks incredulously.

"Because you look like you could need it … you know you really shouldn't sit like that, you might have broken something"

Sherlock winces and clutches his side as if he'd completely forgotten about his injuries.

"I'm fine" he snaps.

"Well that's obviously not true"

"I don't need you help"

"Oh for fucks sake stop being such a wanker, i'm calling an ambulance"

"No"

"What?"

"Do i have to repeat myself, i said no, i don't need you to call an ambulance and i don't need your help"

"If something is broken then you have to have it looked over by a doctor"

"Look, i know how a broken bone feels and this is not broken, at most i have a few bruises, i can handle it myself"

John looks Sherlock over, and he does indeed not seem like he has any trouble breathing or moving, even though he still looks a bit pained and a couple of large scrapes over his chin and cheekbones looks like they could need a good clean.

"Okay" he says reluctantly "But how're you gonna get home though, the buses went ten minutes ago"

"Shit"

"Isn't there someone you can call to pick you up"

"I really don't see how this is any of your business"

"So, that's a no then?"

"It's fine i can walk" and in that moment Sherlock starts unfolding his long limbs from the ground, except when he tries to put his weight on his right foot, his leg buckles and a small sound of distress escapes his lips. He almost lands on top of John.

"Your ankle is probably sprained" John says a bit huffed.

"You don't say"

"There's no way you can walk home on that, are you sure there's no-one you can call?"

"Look, if you insist on helping, then you can find me something i can use for a cane and then i'll be fine"

"How far away's your house?"

"Only a couple of miles"

"A couple of miles! No. No way. I am not letting you walk several miles on a sprained ankle, you could permanently damage it. For gods sake, I'll help you find a teacher and see if we can't get you a lift or something"

"No ambulance. No teachers. I'm fine, and unless you can find me a cane, i don't need your help"

John considers his options. There's no way he's just leaving the madman behind, and since he doesn't want the help of any others (including John for that matter, a fact John has already decided to ignore) that eliminates a lot of his possibilities. He could of course disregard this and just go find a teacher anyways, but somehow that just doesn't sit quite right with him. So really there is only the one possibility.

"Here, come on, you can lean on me" John stands and stretches out an arm. Sherlock squints at him. "We both know you can't get anywhere by yourself so you might as well just bite the bullet and let me help you"

He hesitates only for a brief second before he reluctantly grabs John by the hand and lets him help him up.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it"

Sherlock almost growls at him.

"Okay then" John grabs Sherlock a bit firmer and starts walking slowly along the brickwall, Sherlock leaning heavily on his arm.

"Where are we going?" He inquires, looking wary.

"My place" John says.

Sherlock stops so suddenly he almost topples them both over.

"Problem?" John asks. "I don't want to drag you several miles and my house isn't quite that far away. We can figure out what to do from there."

A couple of seconds pass and John just starts worrying that he has handled this completely wrong before Sherlock simply huffs and starts moving again.

They manage to shuffle a couple of hundred meters, almost falling over at least five times, before John stops them and resolutely puts his arm around Sherlock's waist, Sherlock awkwardly lays his arm around John's shoulders and they start walking slowly, but a lot easier along the path.

The tabby cat from yesterday is sitting in the same place again, looking for all the world as if it hasn't moved at all, it follows the strange pair with curious eyes and John wonders what it actually is he's gotten himself into.


End file.
